


The scent of lemons

by Peppermint__Cat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peppermint__Cat/pseuds/Peppermint__Cat
Summary: After founding Konoha Hashirama gifts Madara a lemon tree.Inspired by the song "Lemon" by Kenshi Yonezu.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	The scent of lemons

_"Hashirama, what are you doing here?" Madara asked, clearly confused by Hashirama's unexpected appearence in front of his door. His dark mane was more of a mess than usual as if he had jumped straight out of bed. Maybe because that was exactly, what had happened, woken up even before sunrise by Hashirama Senju loudly knocking on the frontdoor._

_"Well, I am here, because... I have a present for you!" The Senju just responded with a dazzling grin, unfazed by the annoyed tone of his friend. He held the potted tree forward. Madara looked at him baffled, blinked a few times, as if he didn't know, how to respond to the simple answer he had gotten._

_"It's a housewarming gift," Hashirama explained further. Madara remained silent and looked at the plant in Hashirama's hands. Was he just tired or was he thinking of murdering him? Hashirama couldn't really tell because it was too dark outside, but he strongly hoped for the first._

_"And that couldn't wait for a more humane time of the day?" Madara eventually questioned, growing visibly more frustated than before._

_"Of course not, you moved in yesterday. It's a tradition of the Senju to bring the gifts before sunrise the next day."_

_"That's a dumb tradition!"_

_"Ouch! That's rude:"_

_"It's rude for someone to show up in the middle of the night. Unannounced I like to add."_

_"Come on, Madara. I'm sorry for not telling you beforehand, but don't worry. You're beautiful enough without your beauty rest." Hashirama joked to lighten the cranky mood of his friend. He truly didn't know the Uchiha didn't have this tradition as well._

_That comment obviously backfired. Madara made the sound of a dying ostrich. Now he was definetely thinking about murdering him. The Uchiha turned his head, as if he tried to hide his face behind his messy hair._

_"J-just come in and shut up. I'm up now anyway," he grumbled, sighing defeated._

_Hashirama didn't wait for his friend to change his mind and walked though the entrance straight towards the little garden behind the house. The hallway was empty, the following room he walked through was as well. No personal belongings anywhere, most of the furniture was under gray blankets. Hashirama didn't really mind that, his friend had just moved in. In just a few days, this little house would surely explode with livelyness, warmth and personality._

_"Could you bring me a shovel?", Hashirama asked as he breathed in the cool air of the cloudless night as he went into the backyard. Madara, who had followed him at a safe distance, just rolled his eyes, but went inside again anyway. Hashirama let his gaze wander at the small garden in front of him. His eyes searched, until they found, what they were looking for: The perfect place. It was on a small elevation compared to the rest of the garden. There would be a lot of sun, no large trees or even the house itself would cast giant shadows the whole day long, but it would still be protected from wind. He placed his little companion there. The feeling of satisfaction flooded his stomach. He felt a giddiness and excitement._

_"What do you think?", he asked his friend, as he came back with a shovel in hand. It was brand new, had never been used before. Apparently, Madara didn't like to do gardening work._

_"It's okay, I suppose."_

_"It's not just 'okay'. It's the absolute perfect spot!"_

_"Whatever..." Madara sighed as if he knew arguing with Hashirama about such a meaningless topic was a pointless effort._

_He gave him the small metal tool with a wooden handle and the Senju went straight to work. The ground was cold and wet under his fingers. He loved this feeling of soil on his bare hands. The conditions were perfect for planting the citrus tree. Hashirama digged a small hole and placed his gift inside of it, after taking the wooden container, it had been carried in, to the side. He tamped the soil firmly. He took a few steps back to admire his work proudly._

_"Maybe you should have become gardener instead of hokage," Madara snickered and teased._

_"That would have been amazing!" Hashirama answered honestly without any ill intentions behind his words._

_It truly would have been. Had he been born in a different time, in a different era, in a more peaceful world, who knew what would have happened? He loved to be in his own little garden, whenever he could. Passionately took care of every flower and tree within it. The idea of having his own small flower shop, to be one citizen of many, to give away all his duties, it all sounded dangerously appealing._

_But he knew he couldn't give up his responsibility for some selfish reason. Konoha needed him, needed both of them. Like a small sprout, it needed love and care to grow strong roots, that would hopefully outlive all of them. It was similar enough, Hashirama concluded._

_Hashirama looked at the small tree, he had just put into the ground. He smelled the air and recognised this typical bittersweet scent of lemons already. He realized, Madara had probably no clue, what this plant in front of their feet was._

_"It's a lemon tree by the way.I hope in a few years we can pick the first fruits!"_

_"You put a lot of faith in my ability not to kill this thing." Madara chuckled as if it was a mere joke, but there was a sadness underneath. His eyes held unknown sorrow as they stared onto something behind the tree Hashirama's couldn't follow. What was he thinking now? Suddenly, the profile and expression of Madara's face felt so foreign to Hashirama._

_"I am very positive about it. You just need to water it once a week, in case it doesn't rain."_

_A small smile slipped onto the Uchiha's lips. It was a great achievement in Hashirama's eyes. At that point he couldn't identify this flowery feeling in his stomach, he couldn't tell, what had caused this pleasent lightheadedness. He just knew he was happy, happy with Madara by his side and that was enough._

\--------

If Hashirama had looked at this day objectively, he would have come to the conclusion, that it was indeed beautiful. Maybe it was even the most beautiful day in months. The sun was smiling, the sky was lightblue with little, white cloudy accents. Unfortunately, he did not care. Subjectively, this day was as dull as any other. He did not care about those things anymore.

He felt an emptiness inside. A hole was left, where his heart was supposed to be. It had been there for far too long. It was there ever since. Since that battle in the cynically called valley of the end. A battle to the death with his friend, best friend, with Madara.

The most horrifying part of that experience was, how easy it went down. How easily his blade cut through Madara's chest, split his beating heart in two. One swift stab and everything was over, done. From that moment onward Madara Uchiha would be nothing more than a monster in horror stories parents told their children, another page of a history book.

His former friend fell to the ground. The sound of the impact was burned into Hashirama's brain. The dark blood mixed with the water underneath the lifeless body, a corpse. That was all that was left. Hashirama didn't move, just watched the red spread slowly, agonizingly. He didn't remember, how long he was standing there. He couldn't move at all until the rain eventually began to cease. He knew, Tobirama found him after a while. Was it the morning afterwards? He didn't know. Had his brother brought other people with him? It was all a blur.

Hashirama couldn't regret killing Madara. It was his duty as the first hokage to protect his people and Konoha from every threat. His village was everything he had, had worked for, his dream since childhood and Madara- no, the person looking like Madara- was beyond saving. He couldn't recognize his friend anymore. That wasn't his rival he had met at the riverside, that wasn't the man he had founded Konoha with. Those eyes held no warmth, only insanity, a destructive desire to burn everything to the ground with the nine-tailed beast he had brought under his control. Talking would do nothing anymore. It was too late for that.

But he regretted letting it come to this. He regretted not realizing, which dark path his friend was about to walk on, letting him isolate himself, letting him leave the village. Being too caught up in his work to notice these - with the wisdom of hindsight obvious- warning signs. Their final battle was just the culmination of all his failures and negligence as a friend. Failures he had to correct as the hokage in the end.

It still hurt. It felt like his own heart was also cut in half that day, too. A part of him was lost forever. Hashirama knew nothing could hurt him any further. Sadness and pain consumed him and left nothing but a black void, that couldn't be filled ever since.

Hashirama often wondered, whether he had ever known the real Madara he was now mourning for. Was it just wishful thinking, that the beautiful days they shared were real? Was it all a dream, a hallucination? He was only certain he would never be able to forget their time together, even if it all was just a lie.

After this incident he stepped down as the hokage and let Tobirama take over. He didn't feel worthy anymore to have the white robe on his shoulders, to wear the large hat. It didn't feel right to be a symbol of harmony and peace anymore. His brother would be a good second hokage, wanting Konoha to flourish and rise just as he did. The people mostly supported the younger Senju, even the Uchiha clan, who had become Konoha's police force, accepted him for the most part.

Meanwhile, Hashirama retreated from public life and politics to live with his wife and his children. He was content most of the time. Not happy, but content. His soul was too heavy to soar joyfully, too often haunted by memories and nightmares of that dark day he didn't dare to speak about.

He spent hours in his garden or in the forest outside of Konoha. Mito often asked him, whether he was feeling alright. Her worried look just made him feel worse about himself. His lips formed a smile, his eyes didn't go along with it. He said yes, he always said yes. He knew deep down it wasn't true, but it was his burden to carry. His alone.

His gambling addiction got worse over time, but it wasn't that bad yet. At least he told himself so. While drinking, it was easier to breath, to forget, to laugh with his acquaintences. He couldn't call them friends. That word sounded wrong on his tongue.

Mito didn't make a single comment about his decisions. He felt indebted to her. She and the children gave him some kind of stability. He didn't want to imagine, what he would have done without them. He didn't love her, he had told her that before their politically motivated marriage. He probably never could, but she didn't mind. She had appreciated his honesty and moved on with her life, making the best out of the situation.

On that day, Hashirama wandered through Konoha's streets aimlessly. He greeted and was greeted by many kinds of people. Merchants, mothers with their children, teachers with their students, normal citizens. All of them bowed down, payed their respects to the god of shinobi and former hokage. Their expressions showed absolute adoration, their words spoke of his heroism. He politely engaged with all of them. He felt like they were talking about a completely different person. A god didn't lose a friend, a hero didn't murder them. He said his goodbye and moved forward.

After a while, Hashirama realized, where his feet were carrying him again. He was entering in the Uchihan compound through the old main gate. This area, what once had been central, was now pushed to the edges of the district due to expansion and restructuring of the compound and Konoha as a whole over the span of many years. Soon he reached a familiar house. It was the only house around anymore. The rest was mostly torn down, the families moved towards the new center of the compound near the police station to the south.

But no one dared to touch this house, that was long abandoned, but still in good condition. Whether this hesitance was out of some kind of respect for their former leader or superstitious fear was unknown. Of course, Hashirama had heard about the rumours. There were always rumours in Konoha. The restless ghost of Madara Uchiha himself was said to be haunting this house, cursing everyone, who dared to enter, but the former hokage didn't believe in such fairy tales. He knew, what real ghosts looked like.

Hashirama walked towards the frontdoor, held himself back from knocking. How wonderful it woud have been, if everything had just been a dream. If he could just knock, if Madara would open the door and grumble something like a moody cat. But Hashirama knew, this would never be the case anymore.

He opened the door himself. It wasn't locked. There wasn't anything of worth to be locked in anymore. He made his way to the dark and empty hallway. There were the gray blankets over barely used furniture. He had often come here after the incident. It was like dusting off old memories again. As if he got home again to retrieve something he had forgotten here.

He reached the backyard and his breath stopped for a moment. On the small elevation was the same tree, he had gifted his friend so many years ago. He had taken care of it since Madara had left the village. He didn't know why, but he had this feeling of responsibility. Now it was carrying many small yellow fruits. It was the first time this happened. Hashirama couldn't describe the feeling seeing those lemons against the deep green leaves awakened within him. A bittersweet scent lingered in the air.

It was beautiful.

It was too much.

He knew lemon trees were very resilient, but that wasn't the main reason why Hashirama had chosen this tree in particular back then. To the Senju clan they were a symbol of light and protection. The everlasting green leaves were said to grant long-lasting love and friendship. He couldn't ignore the bitter irony at this point.

Hashirama had realized the true nature of his feelings towards Madara. It wasn't the platonic fondness like one had towards friends and famliy. It was much deeper, he had always wanted to be with the Uchiha, see him smile, make him happy. He wanted to be by his side, train with him in combat, argue with him about trivial things and- could he dare- kiss him in the shadows of the night.

It was already too late, when this realization hit him. Madara had left the village a few weeks ago and a changed man would come back.

Yet this tree didn't care about those circumstances, those lost chances. It was the most beautiful it ever was, as if there still was hope, the childish naivity he had for far too long. He felt like this tree was his last connection to Madara, his last reminder of the peaceful days. At this sight he wanted to stay positive, wanted to be optimistic about the future. At least he wanted to try for his children, for his grandchildren. The old Madara would have wanted that, wouldn't he?

He didn't know, why he was crying now. He hadn't cried in ages. It was pointless to cry, it wouldn't change a single thing and yet he couldn't stop his tears from overflowing. Those contradicting emotions of grief and relief were was too much after years of emptiness.

"Madara," he whispered. Maybe the Uchiha could hear him, wherever he was now. If he had been alive and in his place, would he be thinking about Hashirama as well? Would he have cried like the weakling the Senju believed himself to be? Would he also have felt this loneliness? Maybe he would have already forgotten about him. Hashirama wished this were the case, so Madara wouldn't have to feel the same pain as him.

This sweet and bitter scent of lemons was embedded in the Senju's heart, reminded him of his friend. Let him imagine a million 'what-ifs'.

Even despite the pain, the sadness the Uchiha had caused him, now he looked back on their time together with a smile on his face. After all it was his fault everything went downhill, wasn't it?

He tried to laugh but only raspy sound escaped his lips, as he thought about the last lesson Madara had taught him.

There truly were some kinds of happiness, that could never be replaced.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone :D
> 
> I know this concept with this lemon tree is a little weird and very specific, but as I heard the song "lemon" by Kenshi Yonezu it reminded me so much of Hashimada and I couldn't hold myself back.
> 
> I hope you liked it at least a little bit
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback are always welcome ;D
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
